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Wednesday, July 12, 2017

THE CHORE CHARTS COMETH

This post could also be titled "Summer So Far," but who wants to click on that? It sounds like one big tedious update, WHICH, MY FRIENDS, it just might be! Hoorah! Lucky you. Whatever. This is my RANT HOUSE after all. I really felt like calling it a Rant HAUS. What does that mean...

Fuck. I could use some alone time.

Anyhoo, today I was spending some quality time on my laptop trying to find "printable chore charts." Then I had to switch that up to "Summer chore charts for kids" because I can't very well tell LITERAL BOY to hang up his backpack each day currently, now can I. Then I had to modify my search to "COLORFUL chore charts." Yes, I left my Canadian "U" out of ColoUrful, because I am a MASTER GOOGLER, YO, and I wanted more search returns.

I need CHORE CHARTS because I can't stand the easy, breezy, laissez-faire DROP IT WHERE YOU DONE FINISHED WITH IT kind of summer lifestyle anymore. I know--super boring, whiny, ALMOST cliché Mom type stuff.

(Side Note: I've been thinking that once upon a time a kind doctor could have just given me a container of Valium for all of these problems, but oh well. Onward, tired ladies, onward)

Yeah, so I'm desperate, OBVI, because I do not LURV charts. I also hate schedules and being super organised. DON'T SHACKLE ME! NEVER SHACKLE MEEEEEEE.... But, I wanted a chart, because once upon a time, we had to write words on paper and tape them to the wall, because helpful written signs became INARGUABLE to my Autistic son. It was like magic: ASK him not to do something, and it was all FUCK YOU AND YOUR COMMON COURTESY, but WRITE it on paper...and it was magic. You know: juicy stuff like "NO HITTING, NO BITING, NO BODY CONTACT." Ha ha ha, what a gem. I'm cracking up as I remember that one. Oh sure, NOBODY likes to be bit, that's a given, but you have to laugh at these things or you go ins-- oh wait. Too late.

So the CHORE CHARTS also had to be COLORFUL because I guess it's supposed to look friendly, non-confrontational (good one), almost FUN. The problem was, nothing was quite right. Some of those charts were downloadable files I had to PAY for. Um, no. A lot of those charts led me to those horrifying ORGANIZED MOMS blogs... You know the kind: those incredible women who see a piece of shitty furniture and know how to transform it into something so useful, so majestic, so beautiful, you almost want to try it yourself. The women who have a fucking "mud room" with coat hooks that cost more than my couch, and cubbies for spotless rainboots. The moms who actually reupholster dining room chairs--ALWAYS with some on-trend fabric like chatreuse with zig-zag stripes, and know that the living room needs a punch of pink and orange throw pillows, and have a coffee table with a candle, a wicker ball and some fucking bullshit book that's actually a professionally bound collection of photos from their AWESOME FAMILY VACATION. You know what I'm talking about: they probably have a laundry "GUIDE" somewhere in there, and a house cleaning WEEKLY PLANNER, and a rainbow stack of tupperware grab-and-go snacks in the fridge.

I am not that woman.

Anyhoo, so I found my chore charts on a nice, all-business, no frills page. What a relief.
ONE weekly chart per kid. FIVE slots for daily items, a few on the bottom for stuff you'd be happy if they just do them weekly. Really, I'd like to just cut to the point and say; "kids, please just choose something to do because I'm getting buried in your wrappers, art, and dirty dishes.

They're all set and ready to roll, but I need to get them laminated, because Angry Boy is almost guaranteed to try to rip that thing up as soon as he lays eyes on it. The hard part was narrowing it down; choosing those things I wanted most in the world and waving tearfully goodbye to the other dreams. Like, I really want The Boy to pick up snack wrappers and FUCKING THROW THEM OUT, but I also want him to stop saying; "don't make me say ASSHOLE," when he's annoyed. Don't bother trying to point out that he actually already, in fact, said "ASSHOLE," he will then ask "MOM, WHY ARE YOU BEING MEAN TO ME???!!?" I want my daughter to make her bed. I also want her go pee more than once a day. I dunno...I don't feel like writing "go pee" on a cheerful chart. I guess I could...*shrugs* *looks out the window off into the distance for a long, long while*

I want the boy to start making his own cinnamon toast before bed. He's 13 after all. So that one had to go on the chart, because verbalising THAT wish usually pushes him to say how TERRIBLE his LIFE IS. But, I would also like him to stop farting and burping constantly.

Seriously, let's move on because this is something else we need to discuss: that interesting time when your kid suddenly becomes smellier, ruder, lazier, loves being gross, asks you if they have permission to tell you about the swear word they saw on youtube (hey, at least they asked first, but I'm really tired about talking about swears. I personally enjoy swears myself in my own private avenues of my life, but I don't want to chat about it as a neverending and amazing SUBJECT MATTER).

Anyway, I am learning that Autism + puberty = some serious adrenal fatigue for me. Try to discipline a kid who LITERALLY only has the barest emergence of his own self.

So today, I decided to forego my workout, and take my girlie on a little hunt to find a SUCKER. Yeah--I saw this really interesting documentary recently on a nearby beach town. When I was a kid, this town had a really great amusement park. It used to have a boat that took visitors between the U.S. and Canada, a huge ballroom back a long, long time ago, an amazing beach for swimming, etc. At one point they were talking about these amazing suckers they made at the amusement park, and people were giving first-hand accounts of how they were the BEST SUCKERS, and they loved these suckers, and blah blah blah, you HAD TO GET A SUCKER while you were there. Well, lo and behold, some American guy bought the original recipe and the original little sucker making machine, and he makes all the original lollipops and they're sold in various places here and there around this area.

SO, off we went to find these suckers, where they were supposedly sold at a store that also sells peanuts and peanut confections. Well, I don't eat this stuff anymore. I've given the old heave-ho to most of the refined sugar I used to enjoy. I am basically almost a total bore about loving healthy food and working out, but what the hell, let's go get a stupid sucker, and see if it actually tastes any different from any other sucker.

Well, I got a butterscotch one, and girlie got a loganberry one. Those things were pretty big too--kind of like the size of a creamsicle. As we were driving home, I felt this long-dead feeling making another rare appearance...childlike JOY! I could SEE why a kid would get excited about these stupid candies on a stick--it was big, it was yummy! Yay! LICK LICK LICK LICK LICK LICK IT NEVER GETS SMALLER WHEEEEEEE!! We drove home, licking our lollies, laughing, hooray! Summer is FUN!

By the time I got home, I was kinda bored with it. Why do I want to lick something for half an hour? Oh stop it. This isn't THAT kind of blog, you with your dirty thoughts. Anyhoo, I threw the last little bit out, and then proceeded to have several handfuls of "sour cream and onion" potato chip coated peanuts. What the hell, I can do this once in a while, right?

Maybe not, cuz as I was sitting there filling in the CHORE CHARTS, I suddenly nearly shit my pants. My stomach made that shift like the elevator went straight to the bottom floor and I was off and running for the can (THE WASHROOM, the boy hollers at me every time I drop that little euphemism). Pretty sad when a few moments of childlike whimsy ends in diarrhea. Isn't that just the way.

Well, summer ain't so hot so far. My nerves are getting a little shot from constant teenaged mouthiness and obsessive Autistic behaviour that I've run out of time to chat about just now, but I've got COLORFUL CHORE CHARTS, and those bad boys are READY TO ROLL!!

1 comment:

I am very old, and yet I have never had a loganberry sucker. I did persuade an editor not to take one of my poems once, but that wasn't all that difficult, and I'm not sure which one of us was the sucker. I'm certain neither of us was loganberry.